Twelve Days of CAndy
by KAirismatic
Summary: Twelve days of Christmas in fluff form. CAndy (ChuckyxAndy) Rated for mild language
1. Dearest Reader

**-Dearest Reader-**

Ah, yes, hello- Maggie here. I'm sure some of you remember me, as I was quite a largely playing character in an old story a while back, _The Complete Undoing and Metamorphosis of Charles Lee Ray_. Recall this? Yes?

If not, please let me advise you to go find it. It's about here somewhere.

If so, let's continue, shall we?

As you all know, it is very near Christmas time. A time to celebrate and enjoy time with family and other loved ones. A time to put up lights and other various sorts of cheery décor, a time to bake apple pies and put all your cooking skills to good use in the kitchen. It's also a time when we all make memories and sing carols. You know those. The songs that everyone knows, whether or not they really want to. You _do_ know them, correct?

By any chance then, do you recognize the familiar tune of _The Twelve Days of Christmas?_ A fine song, really. It works on your memory skills- and I am poorly gifted in that area.

However, that is not the point. Keep this song in your mind as you read this story, please. I hope you will find it entertaining- and that you won't find me a bit of a nosy busybody!- and keep an eye out for an (hopefully) obvious pattern.

Happy Holidays!

~_Maggie Peterson_


	2. 12

**-12-**

It was only a little over a week until Christmas, and yet you couldn't tell from looking at the small house that seemed to be buried under the snow. Even though the porch was covered in the white blanket, there was not a single light to be seen, not a tree in the window or mistletoe over the door. It was a plain looking thing, and it didn't seem as if it would be much else anytime soon.

However, take one step through the front door, and you'd see you were quite far from that problem.

Andy Barclay and Charles Lee Ray- more commonly known by his nickname, Chucky- were tangled in the most obnoxious Christmas decoration of all- _lights_.

"Let's just give up, Andy," Chucky said, shaking the cords wrapped about his arms in a dramatic display of frustration. He was frowning, lips pursed in an unamused manner. "I don't think I can even fucking _move _right now!" He squirmed about in his sitting position to prove his point.

Andy looked over from where he was currently also held captive by the merciless lights and grinned. "I don't know, maybe we could just decorate _you_," he teased, giving the doll a once-over. "You could be a Christmas angel."

"Fuck off, you little brat. How about we hang _you_ up in these, huh?" Chucky growled at him in an attempt to appear threatening, but Andy simply leaned over and plugged the cord into the wall he was situated near. The lights flickered on around them, and Andy laughed mirthfully at the look on Chucky's face.

"Perfect! Now stop scowling and sing a carol, you're ruining the effect." Andy put up his hands and mimicked snapping a photo.

Chucky kicked his feet from where he was, making the effort to push his little feet towards the young man who was extremely amused at his own joke. "Andy, I ought'a just rip these stupid things right now and…" he didn't finish his threat, because as he attempted to stand and just _rip the stupid things_, there was a crackling sound and then a little _pop!_ before dead silence and the two looking at each other in shock.

"What just happened?" Andy asked, glancing back to see if he'd pulled the cord out from its position in the wall.

Chucky shrugged, still a bit dazed from when he had tumbled back down onto the floor. His eyes were wide as quarters. "Don't look at me, I'm an _angel_, remember?" he retorted, sarcasm the ever faithful gift that kept on giving.

Andy started to study the lights that were still flickering here and there. His eyes trailed from where the cord began to where it had entangled itself around him. He carefully held each bulb in his hand, trying to figure out where the snapping sound had originated from. The look on his face was extremely concentrated, fingers meticulously checking the light bulbs.

And for the sake of someone's fragile dignity, we are going to pretend there weren't a pair of blue eyes a little more than simply mesmerized with watching just _how_ carefully Andy checked the lights.

In fact, we are also not going to mention the heat that made itself rather visible on that certain someone's cheeks when Andy leaned over to reach the lights that had made themselves snug around a small figure.

"Looks like you're a _fallen_ angel," Andy murmured, tapping the broken bulb. "Your little holiday concert just put out a dozen bulbs." He grinned up at the doll, dimples and all, and held up the section that had been blown out proudly.

Chucky grimaced at him. "You provoked me," he accused him, poking the young man's cheek with his finger. He gave the lights a glare, as if staring at them angrily enough would be all it took to have them turn back on right away. "If it's anyone's fault that I fell, it's _yours_, you demon spawn."

Andy wiggled his eyebrows at him. "I'd pull you down again, if it meant you'd be right here messing up these lights with me," he began, and Chucky opened his mouth and began to reply with something along the lines of _cut that out _but Andy put a hand over his mouth to continue, "I mean, I have to blame _someone_."

The doll rolled his eyes and shoved Andy's face away from him, trying to hide his amusement. "I'm writing Santa a letter and asking him to give you a fucking sense of humor, you moron," he harassed him. He huffed and crossed his arms, contemplating the problem of the now dead lights. He held up the cord with his arm.

"Can't we just put these in the corner or something? It's not like anyone will actually care that there are twelve dead beats lying in some corner."

Andy reached out then and pulled Chucky close and laughed into his sweater, much to the doll's shock. He muttered something that sounded very much like, "Let's get _you _in a corner then, hmn?"

Chucky lifted his tiny hand and smacked at the top of the young man's head with a rather angry sounding, "_Andy!_" before leaning over to whisper some sort of vitiated retort, leaving the pair of them to chuckle rather deviously, the lights momentarily neglected.


	3. 11

**-11-**

The lighting and other festive decorations had turned out to be a much bigger fuss than Andy or Chucky had imagined it would be. If you asked the both of them at precisely what time they had gone to bed, they would both give each other a long and incoherent look before simultaneously blurting out two entirely different times.

And that is why, the next day, we find them still fast asleep, tangled about in the lush comforters of their bed, which kept them safely tucked away from the harsh cold air that settled throughout the house during the night. The alarm bell had rung twice already, but even Andy, who was usually quite the early bird, had pressed the snooze button with a strange sort of lethargic passion.

They awoke at about the same time- a rather eerie fact, may I point out- and all because Chucky sneezed. Andy came to the world of the conscious thinking that the sneeze had been more of a tinkling sound, and murmured out sleepily, "_Jingle bells?_" though if asked later, he'd claim he didn't remember exactly what he'd said that morning.

Chucky would confirm that Andy did, in fact, murmur out that exact phrase, and that he looked like a right retard doing so.

"Jingle your own fucking bells, Rudolph," Chucky muttered, characteristically grumpy, burrowing himself deeper under the covers until only bits and pieces of his ginger hair were peeking out from them. "_Geezus_, did you turn off the heat or something? I thought the snow was supposed to be _outside_- I didn't sign up for Winter Wonderland to be in _here._"

Andy snorted into his pillow. "Maybe winter just hates you, _Mr. Grinch_," he sang, earning him a kick in his shin under the covers. "Ow- just how far down under the covers did you hide?" he asked, diving under the covers to find where the doll had gone.

This, humorously, resulted in nothing near the intelligent sort of activities, and it was at least another good hour before Andy finally tumbled out of bed, calling out something about breakfast to Chucky as he walked through the door.

The phone was starting to ring by the time Chucky came into the kitchen, where Andy was frying bacon in a large old iron skillet. "Hey, can you get that?" Andy called, noticing that the doll had entered the kitchen.

Chucky blew out his breath angrily at him, but nevertheless climbed up onto the counter. It was quite a feat for such a small thing like him, and I'll let you in on a delicious secret- the poor thing was already a bit breathless by the time he reached the phone from where it hung, still ringing away loudly.

"Hello, fucker," he spoke into the receiver without even a single ounce of shame.

Andy, on the other hand, half-dropped the skillet he was holding.

"_Chucky_," he mouthed at him reprimanding-like, eyes wide and mortified. Chucky merely smirked and made a crude gesture at him in response before listening to the voice on the other side of the line.

His smirk instantly vanished when it registered who exactly it was.

It was my dearest friend Karen Norris, formerly Mrs. Barclay, but if you've kept up with our stories so far, you'd know that she'd been married to Mike Norris for quite some time now.

"Oh- hello," Chucky paused to try and hide from Andy who it was by muttering into the receiver, "_Karen._" He looked back sheepishly at Andy, who was near dying of laughter now, because Chucky's attempt to hide his blunder had failed miserably.

"A cheery little bell as always, aren't we?" inquired Karen brightly, who by now had grown quite used to the doll's antics. She gave a hearty little laugh, and Chucky's scowl deepened as he tried to hide his embarrassment. "I'd chat you up for a bit, but I'm going to take an educated guess that you'd rather not talk on the phone much. Could you be a sweetheart and hand the phone to my darling son?"

Chucky muttered some sort of half-baked response, but of course, begrudgingly handed the phone over to Andy, who set the skillet aside.

"Hello? Oh? Yes- I know, he's a riot. Why do you think I keep him around?"

Chucky rolled his eyes and slunk down off the counter miserably. He left the kitchen, more than likely to escape having to be in an earshot of every humiliating thing Andy was probably sharing about him with his mother. He scuffed his feet against the floor as he walked into the living room to glare up at the much too cheery Christmas tree that he and Andy had finally gotten put together after hours of fighting with the silly thing and its ornaments to look halfway decent.

He could still overhear Andy on the phone when the doorbell rang. "Oh, what the _hell_," he grumbled unpleasantly to no in in particular. Because of his wanting stature, it took him a good minute or two to finally open the front door, and this included the primary task of finding a box of some sort to stand on and then placing it just far back enough that he could still reach the knob _and _bring the door open at the same time.

Peeking around the door frame on the other side was Eddie Caputo, who, if you have been keeping up with Chucky and Andy so far, had moved in just down the road from the pair of them.

"What the hell?" Chucky had the most incredulous expression across his face when he saw his usually gruff neighbor in an actually presentable state. He was holding several wrapped boxes in his hands, and overall, looked rather silly to the doll.

"Shut up, Charles," Eddie grumbled back playfully. "Don't be such an ass, it's the Christmas season. Thought I'd be _somewhat_ festive." He shuffled about before continuing. "You gonna let me in, or has your owner not house-trained you yet?"

Chucky growled lowly and gave a small muttering, "He's _not _my house-trainer," but let Eddie in nonetheless, only to hear the sudden ringing of the stove warning all who were inside the home that something was, in fact, burning.

"Andy!"

"Chucky!"

Both shouts rung at about the same time, and Eddie was cleaning off his boots from the snow. "That kind of a day, huh?" he asked, giving Chucky a look. When the doll only gave a heavy sigh, Eddie grinned almost maliciously. "Was it that kind of a _night _too, Charles?"

There was a furiously ringing howl in reply from the doll.


	4. 10

**-10-**

"Andy, we're not fucking this up. Not this time."

The young man looked with confusion at the doll, who was sitting atop the table, legs and arms crossed.

Yesterday had been an adventure for the both of them, if you'd read _11_, and Chucky, I'm afraid, was more or less feeling a bit _cranky_ and hoping that today would not be quite so disastrous. His scowl, if at all humanly possible, had grown since the last two days.

Andy gave his ginger a worried glance. "What?" he asked in concern, brown eyes practically brimming with question. _You talk, and I will listen. That's how it works._

It's quite amazing, truly, how these two had developed quite the non-verbal bond. It only took a single look from one of the other for their counterpart to suddenly understand everything that neither one of them ever really said aloud.

"What? Don't look at me like that!" Chucky gave him a little shove. "I just don't want to have to clean up any more messes, that's all!"

Andy smirked, "C'mon, Chucky, it's _cookies_," he protested. "We can't go too wrong on those." He shook the bag that held the pre-made cookie-dough. "You can't eat them unless you help make them. House rules."

Chucky muttered something that sounded just a bit like, "Who let _you _make the fucking rules in this house, anyways?" but he begrudgingly rolled up his sleeves and waited for Andy to bring out the materials that were necessary.

Surprisingly enough, the process of getting the cookies rolled out into nice balls onto the trays and into the oven didn't result in much of a hazard at all. There may have been just a bit of dough that was lost on the floor, but it was nothing all too serious. Chucky insisted on putting the trays into the oven himself without wearing gloves, but that resolve quickly fizzled when he burnt his hand. But in the end, the dough wads safely tucked into the oven, and Chucky's small mishap was easily remedied with a crudely made ice-pack.

"See? Totally easy. I told you," Andy told him proudly, joining Chucky where he had sprawled himself out on the couch. He attempted to reach over and playfully pinch the doll's cheeks, but Chucky slapped his hands away. He was trying to maintain his usually irate exterior, but it melted away quickly when Andy finally discovered a way to sidle up next to him and burrow in rather snugly.

"Yeah, yeah, _alright,_ now get out. I'm not hiding any Christmas miracle in here," he griped, squirming away from where Andy's breath was tickling him in the curve of his neck. He pushed at the young man for a moment before finally giving up, making a dramatic fuss while doing so.

They lay there in simple silence, heartbeats frighteningly falling in synch with each other. Chucky would swear that for the next five or so minutes, he was only breathing in sweater fibers, but Andy would tell you that it was one of the more peaceful moments of their life, and that he would have traded a lot just to re-live it, just the two of them enjoying each other's company without any sort of heated argument.

It didn't last too long. The oven chimed away what seemed like only seconds later to announce the arrival of the completed baked goods.

Andy got up with a groan. He slowly stood up, straightening out his back almost painfully as he did so. Chucky found this amusing, and voiced this fact with a leering, "Getting old _already_, Andy?"

He received one of the couch pillows thrown at him for his pains. "Very funny- you do know that _you're _actually older than me, right?" Andy reminded him, pointing a finger in his direction. He held his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Maybe I'll get you a cane for Christmas this year…"

"Oh _excuse me_," Chucky retorted back with a smirk. "Go ahead- I'll use that cane to teach you to respect your elders."

Andy laughed hard at that, and began to give, presumably, some sort of witty reply, but the oven beeped again, this time a warning to take the cookies out before they became burnt. Andy turned quickly and gave a shout, hastily making his way into the kitchen.

Chucky remained on the couch, musing to himself. "I'm older than you," he muttered softly, and _oh_, but if you could have seen his eyes, you would have seen that he was lost in such a sad sort of thought. He looked towards the door to the kitchen, where Andy had disappeared temporarily. He frowned suddenly. "Don't make me out-live you, you little shit."

Andy returned then, dimpled smile chasing away any of the previously dark thoughts that had started to cloud the doll's mind. "They're just fine! Just like I said they would be!"he practically crowed, flopping himself back down on the couch next to him. "They've still gotta cool, but they look like nice enough cookies." He made a gesture towards the kitchen. "Go take a look."

"Like I need to see anything," Chucky said, even as he leaned forward to slide off the couch. "I've seen cookies before."

But, of course, he went in anyways, and though he told himself it was because he had nothing much better to do, it was apparently obvious that he did it to please Andy- and out of a personal curiosity as to how well those cookies actually _did _turn out. He hadn't really ever been involved in these sorts of things before Andy had come along into his life, and, although he tried to appear as if he had a surpassing amount of knowledge on many things, when it came to simple memories like this, sadly, he had to come to terms with the fact that he had none.

Which is why, of course, had could only be himself in this sort of a situation, and, before any of his forbidden emotions overwhelmed him, stole two of the cookies from the neatly laid out dozen off the cooling rack that Andy had carefully set atop the table and ate them in a matter of seconds.

"Well, I gotta say, they're not so bad," he commented to Andy upon his return. He kept silent on just how he had made the decision that he liked the cookies. Fortunately, Andy seemed content enough to just see the doll smiling, and the thought to question the meaning behind it never crossed his mind.

That is, until he returned to the kitchen later to find the original batch short of two cookies.


	5. 9

**-9-**

Although it was the holiday season, by no means did it imply that Andy didn't have to return to work eventually after his perilous accident a month ago. It had taken him a while to recover, and the manager at his station had been kind enough to give him an ample amount of time to fully heal, but now, he had to return.

It wasn't precisely something he was all too eager to do, but, nevertheless, he had set the alarm to wake early the next morning to head out for work then next day, leaving one fast-asleep doll still curled up under the covers and clutching onto the pillows around him.

It was a good few hours later before Chucky finally awoke, bleary eyed and a bit dizzy. He sighed angrily and rolled over, determined that he really didn't want to leave the bed until another hour or so. He'd always been a lazy sort, and even though he'd _told _himself he was going to start trying a hand at being a bit more productive, he'd in fact done quite the opposite.

He yawned and stretched out, still debating on whether to stay or get up. What was there for him to really _do, _at any rate? It's not as if he had a job, himself. And- he lifted his head up to scowl about at the room- it wasn't as if there was any house work to do, and even if there was, you wouldn't catch _him _doing it. He shook his head and lay back against two plain covered pillows.

No- Charles Lee Ray was _not _a house-wife. He would be doing no such thing.

He glanced over to the clock, which proudly shone _1:24 _in red lights. He stared at it for a while, still holding onto one of the smaller decorative pillows. About six hours ago, Andy had left for work. He wouldn't be back until _at least _six or seven, depending on how work and the traffic home fared.

That would make it _at least_ five or six more hours until he'd be home.

Some days, Chucky could wait that long. He could occupy himself with other things- watching television, bothering Eddie, or even visiting a certain young blonde down the street who liked to talk to him about wanting to be a wicked witch when she grew up. He was certainly just fine being alone as well, bumming about and not doing very much at all.

Today was not one of those days.

He absolutely _despised_ days like this. He wasn't all too keen on having to shove down these more (what he considered) weak emotions. He'd rather not have them at all. But every once in a while, they would flood up anyways, against his will, and he was never quite sure what to do with himself when they came around for a visit.

He knew what he really wanted. Deep in the abyss of himself, he knew _exactly _what he wanted. He wanted Andy to come home right at this moment. He wanted to have woken up that morning and still have seen Andy sleeping right beside him, eyes shut and breath even.

In fact, he truly wanted to just phone Andy right this minute and tell him to come back.

But he really wanted to spare himself of the embarrassment, though it was only embarrassing to himself. Andy, in all respects, wouldn't have minded or though strangely of it, but Chucky had a more generous portion of pride in his core, and the last thing he wanted was for _that _to be broken. Heaven forbid.

It didn't change the fact, however, that this sickening _need_ inside him was growing more and more by the second. His heart was pounding uncomfortably, and felt heavy as a brick. He presumed that it had started yesterday, back when he and Andy had had their small conversation on age on the couch. He felt an annoying prickle stinging at the corners of his eyes (and before he knew it, his cheeks were _astonishingly _wet, but don't tell a _soul_ you heard this from me).

He growled in desperate frustration and tried to push himself back into his usual demeanor, burrowing deeper under the cover and dragging some of the pillows from the end up over his head along with it. Three of them were lined up against his back, and a fourth and fifth were straying somewhere about his legs. They weren't heavy, but he could still feel them against him; an almost comforting presence. They felt a bit like when Andy would cradle him closely underneath him, despite the doll's unconvincing protests.

Chucky sat up and looked across the bed in a sudden thought. He pushed up the two plain pillows that had before held his head against the headboard. He grabbed at the five that had been about him, shoving them here and there until he was satisfied. There was one long pillow at the very end of the bed; he lay forward and stretched his fingers out until at last he grasped onto the corner of it. He pulled it up closer to him, dragging it up over himself along with the covers again. The smallest pillow that he'd been holding he clung at again, feeling very clever and satisfied with himself.

He hadn't planned on staying all day, he'd only planned to stay tucked in there until he felt better.

He didn't even hear the sound of Andy unlocking the door to come in after work at somewhere along the time of six-thirty, nor did he hear the young man walking into the room. In fact, he became so far gone in distancing himself from reality that he was quite alarmed when the cover suddenly left his head and two curious brown eyes suddenly appeared over him.

"Chucky," Andy started, a playful mockery beginning in his voice. "Have you really been in bed _all day long_? What in the world were you doing all day?"

To which Chucky replied- very convincingly for someone who was in his state, may I add- with a very menacing, "Nothing, you stupid son of a bitch! Do I look like I need to explain myself to _you_?"


	6. 8

**-8-**

They hadn't expected a snowfall. Karen- and I, of course- had planned to visit, but there was a sudden storm that had rushed through, and there was just simply no way to get across to them. Thankfully we are blessed with phone lines and other convenient ways of communicating, and so it was all settled that we would just have to come around sometime later when the snow mercifully cleared.

Andy had had to shovel out the driveway and defrost the car before getting anywhere- and scraping the frost off of the windows had proven to be more of a chore than work that day. In the end, not many other employers showed up, and head decided to close out early for the day, shaking her head as she watched the frozen precipitation continue to fall determinedly.

"Have a safe drive home, Andy!" she'd called out the door to him, with a serious undertone to her warning. Andy gave a grim smile before making some sort of promise he'd at least _try_, stomping across the parking lot through the snow in his large boots.

He arrived home to find Chucky attempting his very best at re-clearing the driveway he had _just _shoveled that morning, and, though somewhere inside he felt mildly cruel, watched the doll struggling with a snow shovel that was perhaps a _mite _too big for him.

"Need a hand there? Or should I say several _feet_." Chucky looked up to see Andy grinning down at him, the car still humming away just outside the driveway. He scrunched up his nose at him, his breath coming out in angry little puffs against the cold air.

"You're an _ass, _you know that?" he griped spitefully at him, but Andy only laughed and took the shovel out of the doll's hands, taking a huge swipe with it and clearing a good bit of what Chucky had been struggling to be rid of with several small strokes. He smiled good naturedly. "I've got this. Go make a snowman or something."

Chucky stomped his foot angrily and pulled at Andy's leg. "No, _you _go make a fucking snowman!" he shouted, trying in vain to pull the young man off his balance. Andy continued clearing the driveway, careful to drag the still clinging on doll as gently as possible across the snow.

At one point, he made a wrong turn, and, in an effort to make sure he didn't topple over onto Chucky, twisted far out into the thick bank of snow he'd created, dragging the doll with him. The shovel flew off into the yard, falling into the snow with a soft _plop_.

"Ow- c'mon, Chucky, just let _go_ already, will you?" Andy insisted. He started to pry the doll's fingers off of his pant leg. "The shovel is too big for you to carry, just admit it. We can just go get one your size tomorrow or something."

"Oh, yeah?" Chucky argued, grasping higher up and clutching harder this time making Andy gasp in surprise and make a disdainful face at him. "Where we gonna buy it at, Toys R Us?"

"Yes…" Andy grunted, attempting to release himself from the death grip the doll had on him. "Where else… do you get… doll… accessories…!"

He'd successfully managed to pull Chucky off of him and turned them over to bury his face in the snow playfully. "Gotcha!"

Chucky gave a heinous cry, snow exploding out from where he emerged from his grave. "You're such a fucking _moron_, you know that?" he cried, packing snow into his hands and throwing them at Andy forcefully. Andy fell back onto his haunches, laughing helplessly as the doll continued to pelt him with snow.

"I hate you!"

"You should've seen the _look _on your face!" Andy snorted, clearly very amused at his own antics. He leaned upward on his elbows. "You look like a snow angel."

"Angel, my…" Chucky was cut off from finishing a very non-angelic like phrase when Andy suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, clearly having moved onto another subject.

"Let's make some!" cried he, shaking the doll a bit. At his questioning glare, Andy clarified quickly. "Let's make some snow angels!"

Chucky shook his head and stubbornly refused, but when Andy turned it into a competition, he raced after the young man across the yard, trying his best to demolish every creation in the snow Andy had made. Andy would retaliate by dumping snow on him, before running off to create another snow angel in a farther part of the yard. Most of the snow that had been shoveled out of the driveway had slid back in, seeing as the two of them truly only know how to create messes. They were both rather breathless and pink-faced by the time they considered the rivalry over, Chucky besting Andy by a mere four to two.

"You… cheated…" Andy protested, laying against the snow and spreading out his arms again in a lazy attempt to make yet another. Chucky laughed and dropped down beside him, pretending he wasn't about to make the same movements.

"I did no such thing, you little bitch," he responded plainly, watching Andy's arms slide back and forth in the snow, the fabric of his coat creating a strange sound as it rubbed this way and that. "_This _one you're making doesn't count either, by the way."

Andy laughed, breath making smoke in the air. "Hey, look, I'm you every morning, breathing out steam like Smaug, the old dragon," he teased. Chucky satisfied himself in punching the young man in the arm and muttering, "Freaking _nerd._"

"Takes one to know one," Andy remarked, elbowing him back. "Besides, don't you have to sort of be a nerd to have gotten that reference?" He was still laughing, his smile causing his eyes to crinkle just a bit, and Chucky finally relented and let out a low sort of chuckle- but only a low one, may the skies fall should he ever do much more than _that_.

There was a calming whirring sound in their silence, and Andy suddenly sat up straight and shouted in alarm, "The car! Oh my gosh, the _car_!" leaving Chucky to laugh menacingly at the way he jumped up and practically skid across the snow towards the still running vehicle just outside the once again snow covered driveway. His imprint was still perfectly laid out, a large snow angel next to the doll's smaller one.


	7. 7

**-7-**

It would go to say that Chucky was always miserable, but today, he was especially in that sort of state. He woke up that morning in all sorts of chills and was hot all at the same time, and his head was pounding as if he were extremely dizzy. He cursed silently to himself, thinking that he should have _known_ that his immune system had begun to fail him- his recent hurricane of emotions was usually a sign that he was physically becoming ill. Shamefully (at least to himself, no one else would really point any sort of fingers), he was prone to becoming more vulnerable to these sorts of things when he fell sick.

His throat was burning; he swallowed thickly before feeling the most aggravating spasm in his nose and he rubbed at it and his body was merciful enough to let him sneeze.

"God…!" his foul string of words were cut off with yet another sneeze, and it prompted a series of coughs to follow soon after. He shivered and pulled the sheets around him, even as he sat up to try and pretend that he wasn't so suddenly uncomfortable. In hindsight, perhaps he _shouldn't _have gone outside the other day when it had been snowing so hard.

"I blame you, Andy Barclay," he muttered to no one in particular, seeing as Andy had been gone at work already for quite some time now. He rubbed his now running nose in frustration, and _almost _wiped his dirty hand off on the covers, but stopped himself just in time to realize that it could be _him _touching that later on.

What was one supposed to do when they got sick? He didn't actually have a real clue. He knew you were supposed to have tea and stay warm- but were you _only _supposed to eat soup, or could you still have other things? He didn't particularly know, and it frustrated him even more so, and he sneezed again irritably.

He groaned and rolled out of the bed onto the cold floor, bare feet sorely hating him for it, I'd say. He was a rather pretentious sort, and he liked to believe that nothing could bother him all too much.

Unfortunately, it seemed life wanted to put upon him a hard lesson, as he felt the disequilibrium take over and he held onto the covers in a solid grip of support. A string of curses flew out of his mouth.

Stumbling into the kitchen proved to be a feat, and he felt very proud of himself for making it, gloating to himself as if he'd just won a marathon. Now to find the tea…

He absolutely _detested _being short. And when I say _detested_, I mean truly hated the fact that he was so inconvenienced by his lack of height. He would always complain about it to Andy, and believe me, when I'm around, he often would expostulate on the subject to me.

Not really much of my concern- he should really just come off it and find some sort of peace in who he is now- but I suppose that will take some time.

But to be getting back to the subject, it was one of those times where he absolutely wished he wasn't so very small. I suppose it was something that was hard to become accustomed to because once upon a time, he could reach cabinets and tear tea packets with no struggle. Climbing off the bed wasn't something that happened with him- he would just simply slide off and hit the floor. There was a time he'd felt invincible.

And now, here he was, scraping an old wooden chair across linoleum, and all to get _one tea packet_. He sneezed loudly and groaned.

It didn't help that he used to be able to just take-and-toss relationships, and now he was here, stuck in this confusion of how he felt here with the young man who had taken him in, despite all they'd been through.

He was contemplating it now, as he brewed the tea, an introspective sort of scowl on his face.

There was the simple problem, at the root of it all, that he didn't even feel worthy of holding Andy's friendship. In his mind, he'd already severed that bond years ago, when he'd manipulated the boy and taken his trusting heart and crushed it. So he'd thought- because here we are, with Andy still picking him up and telling him _I love you_ as if not a day had gone by since they'd first met.

Speaking of which, he felt so inferior when Andy picked him up. It wasn't as if he truly hated it, as much as he voiced it so. It was more of the fact that he felt as if by now, _he _should be the one holding Andy and taking care of him. Not the other way around. Being the size he was made him feel like he couldn't do much of anything at all, and he absolutely hated that.

It was a pride issue; I think I've well elaborated the fact that our dearest ex-convict here had an issue with that quality. A dominant personality having to conform into a more submissive sort of life.

He sneezed yet again, and nearly fell down the chair looking for a tissue box, which proved to be another feat of its own.

By the time Andy had returned from work, he had retreated to the couch and was sitting there quite sullenly, curled up and self-wallowing in pity for his tragic state physically and emotionally.

"I'm home!" Andy called out cheerily, not quite yet noticing the lifeless lump on the couch. He would in a moment.

"Shut the fuck _up_, your voice is hurting my ears," Chucky snapped at him. Andy jumped in surprise. "Why, Chucky!" he exclaimed. He took off his coat and cantered on over to the couch's arm to lean over and get a better look at what was in front of him. "You look _awful_."

"Yeah? Well at least it's just today," the doll bit back, blue eyes sparkling angrily. "Imagine what it'd be like looking like _you _every day."

Andy laughed softly, a sign that he knew to not tease for too much longer. He leaned over to feel the doll's forehead, much to his dismay. "You're hot."

"Thanks, I know," Chucky retorted. "I knew you kept me around for _some _reason." He was going to continue, but another sudden horrid sneeze interrupted him and sounded all sorts of pitiful. The look on Andy's face made his scowl grow.

"Oh, _stop _looking at me like that!" he protested. "You _do _realize I just have a damn _cold, _right?" He shoved Andy's hands away, muttering something along the lines of _if you were sick you wouldn't let me fuss over you either, you stupid idiot._

Andy sighed and shook his head. "Alright, alright, I get it," he surrendered, taking his hands away. He sat back and gazed at him for a moment before seemingly brushing whatever worries he'd had off. "Just- at _least _let me make you something to eat, okay?"

There would have been a sort of argument, but a sudden loud sneeze caught the both of them off guard before Andy headed into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder about options for dinner.


	8. 6

**-6-**

"It's karma, Andy. Fucking _karma_. You drag me around the whole goddamn yard when it's below freezing out, then poke fun at me when I naturally get sick- like _that_ is some sort of unusual shit, and now you're sick too. You deserve it."

The young man commenced a protest on behalf of his defense, but it was interrupted by a hacking cough, which he promptly attempted to cover before it was spewed all over the doll. "Whatever," he mumbled finally, making a feeble movement towards the doll in an effort to hold him. "We'll just have to be sick together, then."

"Don't you be so fucking _happy_ about it!" Chucky exclaimed in between his own violent coughing. "Do you think I want to spend all this time here _sick_?"

He'd gone off and almost lost himself to say _I want our time to be special_, but of course, his beloved arrogance caught him right on time to bring about a stop to all of that utter nonsense.

Andy rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. "Alright, _alright_," he submit, sufficing with merely stroking the deeply set frown that always seemed to grace Chucky's brows. He turned back closer towards the doll to lean over nearer and whisper into his ear, "_I'd _like it if you came closer."

"And just _what _makes you think you fucking deserve _that_?" Chucky near shouted, giving Andy the wildest, most incredulous expression. He crossed his arms in a reprimanding sort of manner, but it wasn't all too long before he relented and let the young man content himself by cradling the doll closely as if he were his favorite toy.

Chucky laughed at the irony of it, causing Andy to open his eyes to peek at him questioningly for just a moment before shutting them again and curling against him, emitting mumbles of bliss every now and then.

It wasn't so terribly awful to be indisposed, at least not when you weren't suffering it on your own, he realized. He glanced over at the young man, whose eyes were still shut and he was no doubt very near to falling into a deep sleep. He'd stayed at work the entire day- although when he came home, he was honest enough to admit he _may_ have been feeling low by midday. Chucky could tell now just how poorly he was faring; his breath was lined with soft sniffles, and his nose and cheeks were tinted with a pink flush.

He swallowed the horrid pride for a long enough moment to run his fingers through Andy's hair. It wasn't as if Andy would ever really know, at any rate, he was fast asleep now. He smiled to himself whilst tracing the contour of Andy's face, secretly rejoicing inside when the response was a contented sigh from the young man.

"Don't let your damn nose drool one me, ya' hear?" he- in all respects, mind you- cooed at him, and I'll say, even _I'm_ feeling a bit of second-hand embarrassment as I write this.

The moment wouldn't last for long, however- it never really did with them. The doorbell was ringing, and Andy awoke with a start, hardly noticing that the doll had been showering endearments on him as he slept. All of which was well, seeing as I'm quite sure Chucky had no intentions of him ever knowing.

"Oh, what _now_," Andy almost whimpered, and the look of despair and exhaustion on his face did it.

"Lay _down_, you little shit," he growled, half angry at whoever had the audacity to disturb whatever small time Andy had to rest, and half frustrated with himself for not having the courage to just be _gentle _for once. "You leave from here and I swear to _god_, I will break your legs."

Andy gave him a hazy look before nodding in a daze and almost immediately fell back against the pillow.

Chucky hopped down from the bed hastily, very near falling in his carelessness. He was already out the door when he heard Andy call out drowsily, "Be _nice_, please!"

The doll balled his hands into little fists and stomped his foot very much like a misbehaved child. "I _will_!" he shouted. "Now don't _move_!"

He skidded across the hall to the front door as quickly as his legs could carry him- and the socks across linoleum floor were quite a big help. Taking the ever helpful stool that was placed near the coat rack, he slid it up to the door and turned the knob very cautiously.

He was bombarded by a chorus of six overly cheery smiles- a group of teens with bright eyes and very rosy faces. Before he could even get a word out, they had already begun singing in a gay sing-song of familiar Christmas carols.

"Deck the halls…"

Chucky steeled himself and bit his tongue for Andy's sake.


	9. 5

**-5-**

You can imagine that the doll gave Andy the whole afternoon Sunday sermon on how he had put up with all those "godforsaken carolers" for his sake, to which Andy gave a very mumbled _thank you _before falling back into a very fitful sleep for the rest of the night. He had barely been able to fix dinner, and the two of them had eaten in bed in the end, Chucky having to help push him back.

"Tell me this _isn't_ all muscle!" he'd exclaimed as he struggled. "You're too fucking _heavy_!"

In the morning- as much as Chucky had fought with him to stay- Andy had left for work again. The doll, when he had given up and retreated back under the covers, could feel himself flinch every time he'd heard the young man sneeze or cough violently, followed by heavy sniffling and stumbling around to get dressed for the undoubtedly busy day.

"It's a _Saturday, _for shit's sake, does it really _matter_ if you just _don't go_?" he'd asked once more; but Andy had shaken his head whilst lazily tucking the doll back under the covers and mumbling something about still being needed this time- I suppose in his fevered mind, it was time for _someone _to be in bed.

_Why does he always have to over-work himself_? Chucky was angrily storming about the house, pretending he was simply in the normalcy of a foul mood- when in truth, he was actually quite worried about just _how _well Andy was taking care of himself.

He was walking about the house- actually, more like storming about like a wild animal- making a fuss over nothing in particular and finding himself with their plates from the night before stacked in his arms. He wasn't quite sure when he'd picked them up, and he wasn't all too knowledgeable on what he had planned to do with them. He figured he'd at least take them on over to the sink- after all, what was the point in putting them back when you'd already gotten them? Besides, he had nothing better to do.

By the time he'd reached the kitchen, he'd found other things: a fork and a spoon in a tea mug (which had most likely been there for a night or two). And by the time he reached the sink, he supposed to himself that perhaps he just _might as well_ wash them. It wouldn't take all _that _long, would it?

Besides, he was becoming rather tired of doing nothing, and watching Andy seemingly do everything and starting to fall apart was bothersome to him. He would never admit it to a soul, but it was distressing him greatly, the way the young man was piling every responsibility on himself. It was as if he didn't think the doll could do _anything._

_ Well, I'll show him, the ignorant little shit_, he thought determinedly, as he rinsed the mug and laid it out to dry on an old dishtowel on the counter. _I'm dang capable of doing things by myself_.

He was feeling a bit dizzy himself- they were _both_ sick, after all- but he refused to let Andy know. He knew exactly what that overprotective boy would do, and in _his _mind, Andy was too sick to need to be dealing with anyone but himself. He was _at work_, for pity's sakes, stumbling about like _that_ this morning! It was unsettling to the doll.

"You should have come home earlier," he griped at said young man when he came back later than usual.

Andy gave him a bleary look, but what really made Chucky feel a bit guilty was the fact that Andy still worked up enough energy to manage a smile for him, despite what he'd said. "I'm home _now_, aren't I? Did you really miss me that much?" he responded, the sickness apparent in his voice, and yet there was that vibe of mischief.

The nerve of him. He still mustered up the gall to _tease?_

"I'd slow down if I were you, buddy," he told him, watching how Andy's steps were a bit wobbly. He had to catch himself and continue with a sort of farce before the concern in his voice became apparent. "The last thing _I _want to do is carry you up some goddamn steps again."

Andy laughed, but it was hard to cover how miserable it was. "I'm going to go make some tea," he mumbled, almost dragging himself towards the kitchen. "You want some?"

"Andy, _stop _it, I can do that _too_, you know, what do you think, I'm fucking _five_?" Chucky retorted, and had not even half-finished what he'd wanted to say when Andy popped back out, confusion in his golden, gentle eyes.

"Did you _wash dishes_ today?" he asked, the hint of surprise very apparent in his voice.

Chucky crossed his arms and was very tempted to pout, but decided that for the sake of his masculinity, he should do otherwise. "I _told _you," he protested, looking up at Andy almost sternly. "I can do things. Maybe if you'd just _sit down_ every once in a damn while like I tell you to, you'd see. You ought'a listen to me more often, you know that?"

Andy grinned softly before coughing into his cupped hand. "So," he began a bit weakly. "What do _you _propose I do now, _mother_?"

Chucky snarled quietly at the jest. "Like I know!" he snapped. "As angry as you're making me right now, I think you should just get outta my face and go to _bed_, you idiotic little bastard. I can't have you dying on me and having to take the blame for it!"

He held his frown, but Andy seemed to understand; that, or he was at the point of exhaustion where his own mind couldn't tell him what to do, and so was looking for instructions to follow.

"And I don't see what you're making such a fucking drama about- there were only _five damn dishes!_ Do you hear me?" he called to him, before shuffling quickly after him to make sure that Andy actually _made _it to the bed.


	10. 4

**-4-**

"Relax, Chucky. They don't need me today."

The doll visible shrank down as the anger released out of him, slowly, sort of like the helium coming out of a balloon. "They'd fucking better _not_," he grumbled, sinking down again against the soft mattress. He pulled the covers above his head and tugged Andy down towards him. "Be lazy with me. I don't wanna feel lousier than usual, with you always making me feel like I need to do some damn thing."

Andy chuckled softly. He shook his head, but there wasn't any protest from him. "What, we'll just lay here all day, then?" he asked, curling protectively around the doll. He buried his face into the side of a pillow to shield off a coughing spasm that Chucky could feel.

"Stop…it," he croaked, feeling his own throat beginning to itch. "You're making me sick."

"I thought you were sick already," said Andy, rather simply. "Wasn't it _you _who made _me _sick?"

Chucky punched his arm hastily. Andy reacted with a small playful shove. Of course, the doll retaliated with another shove, a bit more forceful this time, and this became a bit of a tussle. If you were there in the room, you could hear a bit of breathless laughter and perhaps a less than savory word or two from Chucky's mouth. The pair gradually had moved from the middle of the bed to dangerously near the edge, and even as Andy shouted out, it was much too late, and they fell from the bed onto the floor with a loud crash.

Andy poked his head out from the tangle of sheets. "I think we broke the lamp," he breathed, looking at where said lamp had tumbled off the bedside table and was laying on its side, looking quite defeated.

"Well isn't that fucking peachy- now the neighbors will think we have filthy sex," replied the doll.

Andy smacked him for that one.

"Help me clean this up," he began, picking up the larger pieces of the lamp in his hand. He handed some over to the doll. "I don't want either of us stepping on this."

"Wouldn't _that _be a shame," Chucky gave in weak sarcasm as he held out his hands to hold the shards that the young man handed to him. He slowly spread out his legs to try and untangle himself from the sheets. Not much use- seeing as he was still trying to keep a safe hold on the fragments of the broken lamp. He shook his head. "Don't you think we should get out of _this _mess first?"

Andy looked about him, the idea slowly dawning on his still fever-ridden mind. "Oh," he mumbled, very much upset over the prospect that he would either have to slowly untangle himself while holding onto the pieces he already clutched, or that he would have to simply put them down and pick them up all over again after he'd gotten out from the bed sheets. He sighed and lay the pieces down and started to pull the sheets away from where they held about his legs and waist.

As if it had been jinxed, Andy gripped one of the shards much too tight and cut himself. The blood pooled out into his palm and he groaned.

Chucky merely grimaced and continued to pry himself away whilst holding onto the shards of porcelain. Andy tried to remedy himself, but clearly he was getting nowhere. "No, no, _stop_ it, you dumbass," Chucky began. "Just- just _hold _on, okay? Don't move a damn muscle. Not even one. You got it?"

It took a bit of time, but at last they'd cleaned up the broken lamp and managed to pile the sheets and comforter back onto the bed. Andy had stumbled into the bathroom and, with the doll's help, had bandaged up his hand. "So much for sleeping _in_," Chucky complained, kicking at the floor crossly.

Andy shrugged. "We'd have to get up eventually," he reasoned. He coughed silently, and it made the doll flinch. He looked up at the young man and tried to hide his curiosity. "Why are you so much worse off than I am, anyways? What are you, a pussy?"

Andy tried to laugh, but the coughing was stopping him from doing any such thing.

"Alright, _alright_, don't fucking _choke_ on it," Chucky jested tersely to try and ease the worry that was growing.

It was unnecessary, really, that he should feel this upset over Andy, but sometimes- and especially as of late- he really couldn't quite help it much anymore. It seemed to be the more time the two of them spent together; the more it seemed that his fondness for Andy grew. As annoying as he claimed it to be, he couldn't quite get rid of it, and it had come to a point where he had started to decide there wasn't much reason to pretend it wasn't there anymore.

However, it didn't mean he continued to show this affection in his usual prickly manner.

"Don't overwork yourself- as ugly as you are, you're not _actually _a pack mule," he told him. Andy grinned at him as the coughs gradually subsided. "Thanks, buddy," he started, elbowing open the kitchen door. "Though I gotta say; if I'm as ugly as a _pack mule_, then what on earth are _you _supposed to look like?"

Chucky could only gawk at him.

Andy opened the cabinet and found himself staring for a moment or two before realizing he needed to be taking out bowls to eat breakfast. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. Because he'd just broken a lamp _and _cut his hand, he decided perhaps it was best that he just very carefully take out the bowls and everything else needed.

In fact, he took everything so slowly that it wasn't until Chucky had come into the kitchen that a problem became quite apparent. The doll had sat up on the chair to find poor Andy still gone somewhere else in his mind, milk still pouring in an empty bowl that had no cereal. It was starting to overflow onto the floor when Chucky shouted, "_Andy!_ What the _hell_ are you doing?"

Andy jumped, startled, and found himself staring at two wide blue eyes staring at him in a mixture of amusement and some other mysterious emotion he couldn't quite place. He assumed it was frustration. He looked down to see the mess he'd made and hid his face in his injured hand.

"Just- just _take _this," he said, putting down the milk and rubbing at his eyes. "I just don't understand what's wrong with me today…"

He turned from the table to fetch the towel that hung on the stove handle, and Chucky tried to warn him; but it was all in vain, and it seemed that the world was out to get Andy today. He slipped on the milk he'd spilled on the floor and came crashing down, bringing the bowls and chair to the floor with him.

Chucky heard Andy mutter something under his breath, and to this day, he'll tell you he hasn't the slightest clue if Andy had finally let a bad one slip in that moment of time. He hopped down from the chair to find Andy sitting, half-cross legged, hands in his lap, and showing perhaps the most pitiful expression that the doll had ever seen cross the young man's face.

Before he allowed his heart to break- give him a bit of credit, dears, he's at least admitting he _has _one of those- he folded his arms up over his chest in disapproval and leaned down to look at Andy.

"You know what? Don't you do another _damn _thing, alright?" said he. "How about _I _get some stuff done around here, and _you _bet the lazy shit today, ya' hear?"

Andy just nodded quietly. Four accidents for today were enough for him to take the hint.


	11. 3

**-3-**

It had taken a lot to keep Andy home. He had argued that today was his last day of work, and that even though yesterday he _may_ have been a bit of a dolt, _today_ he would be fine. He'd said that he wouldn't even stay very long, and that he would be very careful on the roads, and that the ice covering them couldn't be all _that _bad, could they?

But Chucky had belligerently told him _no_, and had promptly called Andy's boss to tell her that unless she didn't stop him herself, Andy would burn the whole building down with the state he was in.

"Sounds like the two of you have been given the gift of maladies," she'd teased, and the doll, bless his heart, had offered a small laugh in return.

"Well, it's settled," he told Andy rather proudly. "Your boss is actually not so much of a bitch. Remind me to tell her that next time I see her."

Andy rolled over in the bed and made himself comfortable on the pillow. "I really could have gone, Chucky," he started, but Chucky turned a very deadly stare in his direction and silenced him with a rough, "Shut _up_, will you? You're fucking _staying."_

Had the doll's voice not still been hoarse from his lingering sickness, he would have appeared more threatening. Unfortunately he had no such luck, and instead, his voice had Andy somewhat giggling into the pillow he'd been clinging to.

"I-I'm _sorry_," he choked out, as Chucky retaliated by proceeding to hit him with one of the other pillows nearby. "You just sounded… so… _cute._"

"Oh, do I now?" Chucky growled, wincing at how his voice cracked. "You should hear yourself. You sound like a damn baby _weevil_."

Andy just conjured a sort of face at him and pulled the doll against him. "Whatever," he mumbled into Chucky's back, making him shiver uncomfortably at the way the young man's voice tickled down his spine. He struggled a bit in his grip, holding back and embarrassing giggle. "What do you think you're doing?" he questioned, though it wasn't all very aggressive, really.

The ex-army man shrugged, eyes closed. "You're the one who always wants me to stay _in _bed, and now you want to know what I'm doing?" he asked simply.

Chucky didn't have much of a response for that, and contented himself with keeping close to Andy. The man's body was unusually warm- but that was to be expected from the sickness. He supposed he was probably sporting a higher temperature himself. Andy's heartbeat was slowly pounding away.

"When we get up, I think I'll…"

"Shut up. No," Chucky interrupted. "Don't ruin the peace and quiet with your raucous voice." He squirmed about to face Andy and held his face. "Don't you realize something here?"

At the young man's confusion, he continued. "Nothing's happening. Absolutely _nothing_. It's just you and me here, doing _nothing_." He tried to continue, but the words he wanted weren't coming, and heaven and hell _forbid_ that he say anything that included the phrases _quality time with you, intimate moment, _or _enjoy each other's company_.

Over his _dead _body.

In irony, technically his body _is _dead, but I am getting off topic, aren't I?

Chucky rested his forehead against Andy's, feeling their feverish heat combining. "Let's just fucking _keep_ it that way, alright?"

Andy nodded. He breathed in deeply, and for the next moment or so, there was endless quiet.

It was a quarter past noon by the time either of them left to start the day. Karen had called the house asking if she and Mike could visit the next day. She had gone out and bought presents for the both of them- but of course, like all mothers, she wanted to come around and see her "two favorite boys."

"Chucky, _stop_," Andy held the mouthpiece on the phone to kick at the doll, who had entertained himself by tugging on Andy's socks.

They were cuddled together on the couch. A thick blanket concealed the fact that their legs were intertwined. They hadn't been doing much; they'd only just eaten, and Andy had settled down when his mother had phoned.

Chucky just stuck out his tongue at him before rather mischievously continuing to tickle at the young man's feet.

"_Yes_, Mother, I'm…" Andy covered his mouth with a hand to try and hold in his laughter. "No, I promise, I'm _listening_!" He pulled his legs back quickly and mouthed the word _stop _to the doll. "That's fine, that's… sorry, Mom, hang on." He picked up one of the couch's pillows and threw it at Chucky.

"What? _No_, Mom," Andy flushed deeply. "How could you say that?" He kicked gently at Chucky to try and keep him away. "Yes, yes, ok. . Oh- love you too- yes. Bye."

The moment he hung up the phone, he tossed it aside with an almost malicious smirk on his face. "You," he growled predatorily at the doll, who gulped and help up his hands in surrender. "Now, _Andy,_" he reasoned slowly. "Let's not get so vengeful." He backed away slowly, but it was all for naught, as Andy had already made his decision and pounced on him, tickling the doll mercilessly.


	12. 2

**-2-**

Karen arrived precisely when she said she would, bringing some colorfully wrapped parcels along with her. Andy helped her carry them in as the two of them caught up on their recent events.

She sighed deeply when she entered the front door, looking about with a smile on her face. "Well," she breathed." I do believe this is cleaner than I thought it would be." She had a teasing smile on her lips. She sniffed the air curiously. "My, that _does _smell delicious," she commented, clasping her hands. She gave her son a proud look. "I'll say, you've certainly become a fine, young…"

"Housewife?"

Both mother and son turned to where Chucky stood, arms crossed and signature frown gracing his features.

Karen grinned and bent down to pat his head affectionately- despite his attempts to stop her. "Well, hello to you too, dear," she said.

Chucky ruffled his hair where her hand had been. "'lo," he nearly pouted. He made a stiff gesture towards the couch. "Do you wanna _sit _or something?"

"Yes, thank you," said she, giggling.

"Dinner should be ready really soon, Mom," Andy announced. "I'm just going to go ahead and set the table, okay?"

"Oh, I'll help, dear, wait for me," she called, leaving chucky to sit alone on the couch, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly. He looked after the door that swung back and forth, even as Karen had already entered the kitchen with her son. He could hear their laughter inside. His heart started to squeeze within itself, and he clutched his shirt, frown deepening.

_Would it bother you if I said I think I _love _your son?_

He was contented enough to sit there in his own silence until Andy poked his head out in search for him. "Hey," he called softly, aware of the sense that something was not quite all right. Chucky didn't notice him, and Andy came over to gently touch the doll's shoulder.

Chucky jumped. "What?" he snapped.

Andy did jump, but he covered it quickly. "Come on," he pressed, nudging the doll's shoulder. "Dinner's on the table- and Mom's telling me she wants to talk to you a _lot_."

Here Chucky smiled. "I'm damn sure she does," he replied, looking up at the soft grin on Andy's face. "Let's not make her wait then, what do you say?"

Dinner was surprisingly peaceful, though I'm not saying for a minute that chucky kept his brazen habits at bay. There were several outbursts which were quickly accompanied by Andy's mortified apologies to his mother, and dear Karen laughing at all of it. She enjoyed every moment, I believe, and kept each precious second very close to her heart.

The atmosphere had lost all of its tenseness but the time night had fallen over the house. Although the doll had not changed his behavior in the slightest, he seemed to have opened up much more, and Andy confirmed to his mother that this did, in fact, mean he'd gotten comfortable in her presence.

"I don't really know why he was so tense in the first place," said she.

After all, she thought she'd made it perfectly clear that she'd long accepted him as a part of the family. But Andy merely shook his head and sighed- all in good nature, of course. "He's a little shy about all that, though he won't admit it," he told her.

Karen hummed, but clearly she had other thoughts on her mind. Her intuition was gathering that something else was in the process of coming to light. You see, Karen was not a blind mother; she'd seen the shared looks and the playful behavior between the two, and she held a certain sort of suspicion in her mind. And she was quite intent on it becoming a reality for once and for all.

"He's rather shy about _other _things, wouldn't you say?" she suggested.

Andy gave her an inquisitive look. "What's that?" he asked, but she just laughed and shook her head. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's getting late," she said. "I should probably head home soon. Walk me out?" Here she held out her arm, and Andy took it, grinning.

"I'm taking Mom out to the car, Chucky," he called out to the doll, who was in the kitchen still.

He poked his head out. "Good-bye," said he, rather plainly, but our Karen was not about to have any of _that_, thank you very much. She held out her arms and gestured inwards for him to come near to her- which he did, making a right fuss about it too.

She knelt down to hug him warmly, and though he put on a fine show of appearing begrudging, anyone could tell he really didn't quite mind at all.

"Merry Christmas, dear," she said. Then she pulled him closer and whispered something that made him shy back from her almost feral-like and blush a dark shade of red. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, okay- now get outta here before you're snowed in," he grumbled. "I don't need you here all _night _too."

Karen laughed and took Andy's arm again. "Now, get well, _both _of you," she reprimanded in mock sternness. "I don't need either of you deathly ill on Christmas day because one of you decided to do something particularly foolish."

Andy took her out, and then she was gone, driving towards home with Andy waving after her, and Chucky deep in thought.

Andy slid his hands in his pockets and breathed deeply. "Well," he started. "How about some hot chocolate?"

Chucky gave a non-committal grunt, which Andy took as a _yes_, and he chuckled softly and squeezed the doll's shoulder comfortingly. He turned to re-enter the house, the doll following silently behind.

"You know, your mother's not so bad," he commented later, as the two of them sat silently on the couch, blowing on the top of their mugs to cool the very hot beverage.

Andy hummed softly, taking a careful sip. "Well, I'm glad you think so," he replied. "She's going to be around for a while you know." He looked over to see the doll staring back at him.

Now let me just tell you, the moment then was perhaps about as awkward as any sort of awkward moment could become. It had practically become so silent you could've heard a pin drop, or in this case, two beating hearts that couldn't quite seem to grasp the concept of a steady rhythm. Andy felt that suddenly, the temperature had risen a bit drastically, and Chucky found himself unable to stop shaking. He gripped onto the cup tighter to hide any of it, as he thought all of this was rather silly of him.

"What did she say to you, anyways, before she left?" Andy asked, trying to shift the mood before it became stiffly uncomfortable.

"I'd say that's none of your fucking business," Chucky snapped, brooding into his mug.


	13. 1

**-1-**

Christmas morning had been rather eventful for the two of them. Andy had told everyone he knew that they were free to drop by and visit whenever they pleased, and it seemed that everyone had decided to do just that. Quanisha- an old friend who I'm sure you all may remember- could stop by for a moment or two; she and Brett had other plans of their own for the day. Krista came soon after, bringing along Ellen and Howard. She brought presents of her own, and Andy returned the favor, having bought each of them at least _something_ for the holidays.

"Andy, I've _never _seen your house!" Krista exclaimed, and Andy laughed.

"Mom said the same thing," said he, shrugging. "I guess it's because we were so busy fixing it up for a while."

Ellen and Howard brought more than presents, however. Howard had gotten the courage to bend on one knee and ask for her hand, and she of course, said yes. She was very excited to show off her ring to the two boys; Andy showed rapt interest while Chucky very grouchily admitted it did look rather nice.

Karen had stopped by again, though only for a short while, and she'd brought Mike along. He'd been busy at work, and they didn't have much time, but she'd wanted to drop by again, as all mothers do.

I came around about seven-thirty, even though I'd _said _I had planned on being there around four. What can I say, things come about and keep me from doing as I please, you know.

"Well, I'm here!" I announced. "And I've brought all sorts of Christmas cheer!"

Andy grinned and gave me a tight embrace. "Please, bring it here," he said, giving Chucky a horrid glance. "He's been the _worst _at doing any of that."

Chucky looked up with a snarl. "Well, can I help it if I don't feel cheery?" he asked.

I gave a smile then. "Oh dear, is our little Grinch in need of some Christmas magic?" I asked, leaning over and pinching his cheeks.

He was furious, to say the least, slapping my hands away almost immediately.

Something about him was very tense, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. Even as we had settled, I would notice that his mind would be far off. He wasn't quite as excitable as usual and, as much as I love to prod and tease, it caught my attention and concern. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen him gaze wandering towards a certain handsome young man. And certainly, I'd caught that young man committing the same crime.

It was just that I had noticed that these gazes had grown to become rather fond, and there was an apparent affection in the doll's eyes that replaced the bit they usually held.

It was quite fetching on him, but I daresay, he'd have my tongue for saying such things, and so I tucked away this knowledge to myself.

I am not all very good at picking up hints. I'm no detective- Mike could tell you this with a laugh. I am the worst at discovering secrets, and any subliminal message absolutely _must _be decoded for me. So believe me, when I tell you that is was obvious that these two needed a push, I mean it was painfully apparent. The tenseness on this subject between the two of them made even _me _want to scream. Friends- yes, they had seemed to become comfortable with that idea well enough. That next step seemed to be something they were content to tip-toe about.

Well, I, Margaret Peterson, had had quite _enough_ of this ridiculous tip-toing, and thought it was about time for a bit of dancing. A fiery tango, preferably.

It seemed to me that our beloved Charles was getting a bit impatient about the tip-toing bit as well. And the boys don't call me _Aunt Maggie _for nothing.

"You'll thank me later," I told Chucky as I was hugging them good-bye. He just scowled at me

"For what?" asked he.

"You'll see," I told him with a wink.

I bundled myself up snugly underneath all my layers. "I think you'll want to sit on by the window sometime tonight," I began, whilst poking each finger into its sleeve in my gloves. "There's supposed to be a _gorgeous _full moon out."

Chucky began to argue, the little incompetent fellow, but I gave him a harsh stare to hush him before continuing.

"Oh, _please_, do take pictures for me!"

I was appealing to Andy this then, taking his hands and offering up the most dramatic plea I could. "I want at least _one _perfect photograph of a winter moon! I'll say it's a bonus Christmas present from you to me!"

Andy laughed and rubbed the back of his head, and I could practically _see _the doll melting. "Of course we will, Aunt Maggie," he assured me. "We'll take a good one, scout's honor."

Sighing contentedly, I buttoned up my coat. "Well," I said, trying to send a sort of mental message to the old grouch. "I guess I'll leave you two alone, then. I'm sure you'll want to rest. I'm off!"

"Good riddance!" called Chucky.

"Chucky, don't be rude. Good-bye, Auntie!" Andy waved affectionately.

Andy held true to his word, and attempted to set up the camera out in a good position on the window bench. He was oblivious as usual.

Chucky, however, was finally proving his intelligence, and noticed his opportunity straightaway.

"You do realize that Aunt Maggie has _no _fucking clue what she's talking about, right?" he questioned, waiting nervously to see Andy's response. He could feel the apprehension making his hands prickle with sweat. The foulness of being human.

"What're you talking about, baby-doll?" Andy asked, absentmindedly. He was still toying with the camera stand, and Chucky knew that he wasn't all there, but the sudden affectionate pet-name and the situation they were in gave him a minor heart palpitation.

Chucky growled and crawled up onto the bench. He pulled Andy's hands away from the photographing equipment. "Look," he said pointedly, glancing upwards. "There's not full moon out."

"Oh, you know, you're right," Andy mumbled, looking out of the sky. He chuckled breathlessly. "There isn't, is there? Huh."

He sat back on his haunches, but as he moved to do so his head brushed against decorations above him. "Oh," he said, flushing a bit. "Aunt Maggie, you are _wicked_."

He pointed upwards, as if Chucky hadn't already noticed the blatantly obvious placed mistletoe. "Well, I _know_ you know the tradition about mistletoe," he started.

He leaned in close to kiss Chucky- only he went for his cheek, and I'll tell you right now, that was the absolute _worst _for the doll.

"Andy, you are such a dumbass!"

Andy was entirely confused and began to laugh out all sorts of questions until Chucky politely told him to _shut the fuck up_, then proceeded to take the man by surprise by holding his face and pulling them close against the couch pillows, kissing him quite fully on the lips.

It was not the most romantic kiss ever. It was hurried and sloppy, with much raw passion, but not a whole lot of skill- at least not on Andy's part. It was hungry, it was definitely overdue, and I'm sure the desperation could be felt so thickly that it could have been cut.

But it was their first kiss, and I'm sure that it was, if not anything else, terribly memorable for the both of them. And what is Christmas but to make memories?

**A/N: **Did you see the pattern? I hope you did! If you think you did, let me know! If not, you can always read again, or you can ask me and I'll tell you 3 I hope you enjoyed this, and Merry Christmas, my dears!


End file.
